


The sun is full of shit

by Ermmmmmm



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, M/M, and shit, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ermmmmmm/pseuds/Ermmmmmm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The present has set them free - it's the past that keeps their shackles tight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The sun is full of shit

**Author's Note:**

> Omfg this story has been a nightmare. When I started writing this a week ago, there was nothing like it - a week later, there are a few similar stories (including the lovely story by Wolkje!) - I really hope this isn't too unoriginal. I also didn't write it in order and have slaved over quite a few late nights to get it written - for this reason, I'm not very convinced by its quality and thus ask for your forgiveness if I've fucked up the canon, I've accidentally written in the past tense or the first person, or I've fucked up continuity. I seriously need a beta reader... In any case, I hope you enjoy the story!

**Monday**

Click.

“-nd isn’t it an absolutely beautiful May day across the Dales this morning, Trisha?”

“That’s right, Dave, almost slapped on my suncream before I –“

Robert feels sick as he rolls onto his side in his single bed, slamming his hand down onto the alarm clock radio. It should be against some ancient law or social norm for others to be happy today, when so much is at stake. Robert scrunches his nose at the rudeness of some people – what right do they have to be happy? They should be feeling the dread too, today is a big day. Today is everything, gathered around the uttering of either one word or two. Please God don’t let it be two.

The sun’s being rude an’ all. Robert opens the curtains next to his bedpost and immediately recoils; what sort of God would make today so blissfully ignorant? Even the weather doesn’t give a shit, doesn’t understand the gravity of this afternoon on Aar-.

Robert’s heart lurches at that syllable, throwing his chest across the room and constricting his neck. Robert tried so hard to sleep last night, but he couldn’t. It’s everything to him, but it shouldn’t be. He heard him loud and clear - “just mates”. He knew what it meant – he was speaking English, and Robert was also an English speaker, with the ability to deduce meaning from collections of words and phrases. But nothing made sense in that bubble of phonemes and pauses, nothing still does. He’s vulnerable, but he’s allowed himself to be. His happiness only has meaning if he can share it with Aaron. Without anyone to share it, it rots him internally. God, if only Aaron had a chance to be happy, maybe he could learn too.

He’s thankful not to bump into anyone on the way to the shower, Aaron doesn’t need the Victoria pep talk, the hints, the optimism – it’s not what he wanted. He wanted distance, Robert gives him distance. The unwanted light streams into the bathroom in slits through the blind. Robert turns away, hoping they’ll leave in a heavy cloud. They remain.

He showers, cleans his teeth, does his hair, puts his face on. The mask is duller today, worn and uncomfortable. He sees the cracks in it as he looks in the mirror in his bedroom, not able to convince himself of his own act anymore. He looks away, unable to face his own depths for longer than a second at a time. He thumbs over the buttons of his plain white shirt, over the smooth fabric of a mauve blazer and the matching trousers. He feels as though he should be wearing black, unable to hide the feeling of his own heaviness, his regret, his dullness. Aaron doesn’t need it, though. He sticks with the mauve.

He throws the white material over his head, not wanting to pull it down. He enjoys the opaque disguise, the physical barrier to the rest of the world – it suits him. In a world where he was instructed to keep his overflowing emotions inside a tiny fist, the material allows him to throw them at the walls, at the sides, down his front. He doesn’t need control when he’s all alone. He pulls the bottom of the shirt down slowly, his ruffled and bedraggled hair showing at the top, and eventually his eyes, his nose, his mouth. The light assaults him again, Robert bites his lip in resigned disgust.

He’s almost ready. He puts on the first sock slowly, the material scraping uncomfortably against the small hairs on the bottom of –

“ – and the traffic is remarkably clear on the roads today, Trish! Could this beautiful morning get much be – “

Robert almost throws the alarm out of the window, but saves himself the embarrassment, pulling his socks up and doing up his shoes as quickly as possible before he eats himself alive.

He groans to himself halfway down the stairs, the faint chirp of Vic singing to the radio in the kitchen almost driving him back to his room. He needs coffee to be his best for Aaron in court, even if his eye drifts over the bottle of cognac in the cabinet in the corner. Deep breath in. He enters the kitchen.

 _“Wake up, it’s a beautiful morning, The sun shining for your eyes –_ Hey, Robert”, Vic stops herself and lets the radio finish the duet alone. “You’re looking very dapper, big da…” Her face loses its blissful sheen as she remembers the day.

Robert can feel his mask gathering sheen as the corners of his mouth crank upwards and his teeth flash outwards.

“He’s gonna go down and Aaron’s gonna be free of him once and for all”, he musters up the optimism somehow. Victoria seems satisfied with the answer, and returns to the hob and the boiling eggs. “You know that song’s supposed to be ironic, right?”

“How?” Victoria scrunches up her nose as she dances a little at the cooker, and a slither of numb affection wriggles through Robert’s ribcage. “It’s well happy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but the guy is always really pessimistic about his good fortune, and his girlfriend gets fed up with him”, Robert can’t help but smirk humourlessly at the irony coming out his mouth right now. “Not to put a dampener on anything, of course”.

“No, of course”, Vic flashes Robert a look, eyebrows raised. “You sure you’re alright? It’s a gorgeous day outside today, maybe that’s a sign”.

“I’m fine, today’s not about me”, Robert swallows the build-up of anxious bile at the back of his throat, making him cough. Vic flashes him another sympathetically suspicious glance. “Aaron’s gonna get the right result, and then he can put all of this behind him and start clean”.

“And what about you two?” Vic prompts, putting another egg on for Robert even though Robert’s stomach can’t take solids right now. “You two gonna start clean as well?”

“There’s isn’t an us two”, Robert says a little too quickly, and he coughs back the bile again as what he’s just said rings through his ears like a death knell. “We’re just mates, I’m looking out for him”.

Vic gives him another suspicious eye as she brings Robert the boiled egg and little soldiers laid neatly on the side of the plate. “When did you see him last?”

Robert immediately sweeps himself back up to that time, in the court, sat a few seats down from Aaron in the uniformly brown seated viewing gallery. Sandra was squirming under the pressure of the question, finally admitting her knowledge of Aaron’s abuse. Robert could feel the weight of the past lift suddenly from Aaron’s shoulders from halfway down the pew, and Robert threw a covert glance down the row to see Aaron staring straight ahead, biting his lip trying to keep his hope under pessimistic wraps. Robert had left immediately to keep his promise of distance between them, but he had hoped that Aaron knew how much he wanted to support him, hoped that Aaron felt some comfort from his support, no matter how much he had fucked up before. That’s all he could hope for.

“In court, when Sandra buckled”, Robert replies after swallowing a bit of egg-dipped soldier. “He looked pretty relieved”.

“And did you speak to him?” Vic takes a slurp of tea as she sits opposite him at the kitchen table. How does Vic manage to see through his veneer so easily?

Robert buys more time by taking an extra big bite of eggy bread, but Vic’s unimpressed look makes him swallow and sigh, “No, I didn’t”, Vic gives him another look, one Robert couldn’t quite work out. “It wasn’t appropriate, he had his family around him, and I don’t mean anything more than a mate to him”.

“You know that’s not true”, Vic counters, a sympathetic look returning to her features. “What Aaron says and what he means are two different things, you know that well enough yourself”.

 _How many times did he tell me he cared about me and didn’t mean it then?_ “Look, Aaron has told me he wanted to just be mates, I have to respect that”, Robert tries to lose himself in his coffee mug, staring into the milky brown depths; instead, he spills some of it down his white shirt, and he recoils as the hot coffee hits his skin.

“Fuck!” he yelps as Vic quickly fetches a flannel. “It’s too late to save, Vic”, he adds as she tries to mop it up with the damp cloth, “I’ll have to go and change”.

That showed the fucking radio.

* * *

 

“ – temperatures up to a balmy twenty two degrees – that’s seventy two Fahrenheit for you oldies, with the sun gracing us with its presence for the rest of the week – collector’s item, eh, Freddie?”

“Indeed it is, Tommy! Get your sungigs on and take us with you, this is the Lunchtime Mix on Sunshine F-“

Robert sniffs at the radio and the voices gladly disappear as he pulls the key out of the ignition. He steps out and heads to the court across the car park.

The air of the crown court suffocates Robert as he climbs the steps into the lobby of the grand building. Vic eventually had to chuck Robert out of the house as he watched the Dingle posse leave the Woolpack on their own way here. He didn’t want to get there at the same time; he has to maintain the distance, however much he wants to push through that barrier. The ten-minute gap that he had left before leaving the village himself had worked, and he had got to the court just before they were due to enter the courtroom.

He walks across the lobby and watches a well-dressed Cain and Chas disappear behind a pillar and presumably into the room. He stops himself a moment; this is it, the culmination of months of torment and self-doubt for Aaron, and worry and upset for himself. He readjusts himself, puffs his chest, straightens his tie. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Robert moves forward.

He catches the swinging door to the room and he pushes it back open. The viewing gallery is around half full, mostly of Aaron’s supporters. He catches the eye of Sandra further down the gallery, and he’s taken aback, surprised she would want to show her face after the ordeal of her questioning. He smiles emotionlessly, and takes up his seat just above the Dingle contingent. He scans for Aaron amongst the sea of heads below him, but he can’t see him.

“Oi”, Robert gets pulled out his search by a shrill whisper from below. “I know your head’s pretty big, but I’m not that small!”

“Oh, sorry”, Robert shakes himself slightly, meeting Chas’s slightly intimidating eye line. “Are you alright?”

“I will be once this trial’s over”, Chas sighs – Robert wasn’t expecting an honest answer. “Have you seen Aaron?”

“No, I thought he’d be with you – when did you see him last?” Robert’s mind starts flashing with worry, but he looks resolutely forward.

“A few minutes ago, he said he was nipping to the loo before the verdict…” Chas trailed off, Robert able to read the same worries in her eyes that he had behind his own.

“Do you want me to go and look for him?”

“No, no”, Chas hardens slightly, straightening her back. “We can’t force him to be here, it’s his own choice”. Robert nods, and leans back in his seat for a moment. “Robert?” Chas beckons him to lean forward again and Robert has to fight rolling his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“You…come and sit down here with us, eh?” Chas looks away slightly as she offers – Robert can’t help noticing Cain roll his eyes towards her as she does. “You’ve been at Aaron’s side all through this, we’re on the same side”.

Robert flashes back a small smile, “Okay”. He stands up and walks towards the end of the row. “Aaron!” He almost bumps into him as he gets to the end, Aaron clad in that suit that Robert knows so well and loves so much. His face freezes as they make eye contact, a perfect storm of relief and agonising worry starts to brew in Robert’s chest. _What if I accidentally kiss him if he wins? What if I accidentally brush his hand? What if he hugs me and I take it too far?_ Robert can’t help wondering if he wants all this to happen or not.

“Robert”, Aaron murmurs, and Robert’s heart leaps when he spots a small smile crease like a flash across Aaron’s lips. Robert extends his arm to let Aaron through and follows him down to where Chas is watching him. Robert can’t help admiring Chas’s look of love and support for her son as he sits down, but feels the familiar knot of sadness that his own will never mean anything anymore – at least not to Aaron. He feels Aaron sigh as the room goes quiet. Heart on amber alert.

“All rise”, instructs the court usher as the judge enters below them. The scuffle of feet rustle and echo throughout the chamber, covering Aaron’s and Chas’s deep breathing. Robert turns his head slightly, and Aaron catches the glimpse Robert throws him with a curve of his lip. Robert’s heart burns achingly, and they all are seated again, putting his hands flat on the mahogany seat at his side.

The door at the opposite end of the room opens with a chilling creek and out he steps. Robert’s own hairs on the neck stand up in instinctive contempt. Lip curled and brow furrowed, he studies Gordon for as long as he can stand before he would need to throw up onto his lap (Gordon isn’t worth it, Robert is quite fond of these trousers). He is immaculately dressed, showing no sign of emotional distress or torment, let alone remorse for his actions. Robert wonders perversely how he can manage to keep something so corrosive as emotion under wraps like that, his heart aching in shame as he remembers his world melting down around the barrel of a gun pointing at the man he has vowed to protect. Sometimes he wishes it were him in the dock. Better than internalising it all, he supposes.

He doesn’t look, but he feels Aaron tense at his side, his breathing curt and selective as they wait for the judge to begin the proceedings. Gordon takes to the dock and turns directly to the viewing gallery, flashes his eyebrows at his son. Robert hears Aaron’s breath shudder, and suddenly emotion takes control. Robert feels a ball of breath block his throat as Aaron leaps his hand over Robert’s, fingers collapsing together in a relieving orgy of comfort and reassurance. Robert daren’t move, daren’t read anything into it, second guess Aaron’s motives. _I’m here for Aaron, Aaron needs support. Leave it at that, Sudgen._

* * *

 

The jury has reached a unanimous verdict. The judge reads out the charges, the words “child abuse” and “rape” falling like anvils into the otherwise silent room as the walls wait with baited breath. Robert feels Aaron’s fingers squeeze his own tighter and tighter, almost suffocatingly so, but he lets him; Aaron needs the release, the reassurance. Robert dares to look to his side, and Aaron’s entire body seems to be on the verge of shaking, pools of tears sticking resolutely to the sides of his eyes, refusing to unveil themselves in front of the man who robbed him of any feeling. Robert wants nothing more than to collapse Aaron into his embrace, to rock him gently, to smooth his fluffed up hair, to dry his tears, to be his constant, his sun. Instead, he has been relegated to the space telescope, and the more he focusses in, the more remote he feels.

“Guilty on all counts”.

The row erupts into a Mexican wave of delirium; tears flow across the seat, and Aaron and Chas huddle together, expunging their demons once and for all into the neutral wood of the seats. Robert doesn’t give Gordon the satisfaction of one last glance before being sent down into his amoral abyss, and just looks to Aaron and his mother, the unit that matters, to be protected at all costs. He’s still holding Aaron’s hand, Aaron showing no signs of wanting to let go, even if he’s busy collecting his thoughts elsewhere. Robert lets him, lets him bathe in the support and affection of all those who love him, lets him know they’re all there. Robert will always be there, at least in spirit, no matter how much it hurts and torments him.

The judge calls the date for the sentencing (10th June) and dismisses the room, the room standing respectfully as she leaves. Robert’s world loses its soul as their fingers unravel upon leaving the emotionless wooden banks and out of the door, but the aesthetics of the world begin to tease its beauty once more. Suddenly, the outside world begins to make sense again, the sun begins to shine brighter through the windows. They step out onto the steps and into the rumbling city before them; the sunlight is dancing and playing across the window like a child, sheltered from darkness, from fear, from danger. It leaves a trail as it bounds endlessly before them; Robert hopes Aaron feels as free.

He turns around to see where Aaron has gotten to, but notices he’s already been swept towards Paddy’s car in the opposite corner of the car park. Robert smiles sadly, knowing that Aaron would be surrounded by the Dingle fortress for the rest of the evening, that and a couple dozen pints at that. Robert has finished his work; he found out what was upsetting Aaron, he got him to open up, to prosecute, to give him the keys to the prison he’d hidden in for fifteen years. Robert is trying to see it as a legacy, but he knew he only pushed Aaron to find his own courage – it wasn’t the cure to world hunger or anything. But he can live with that. In time.

* * *

 

The jackdaw chatter and chirping of congratulations is buzzing from the bar of the Woolpack, Diane almost pumping the barrel dry as she pours beers on the house to celebrate. Robert stands from the doorway and watches momentarily, not wanting to interrupt the moment Aaron is sharing with his mother and his uncle. Licking his front teeth and heaving a large sigh, he picks up a smile and heads silently out of the door.

“Robert!” a familiar shout hit his ears from across the sunlit road, making Robert want to turn any other way than forwards. “Adam just texted me, that’s brilliant news!”

“Isn’t it just?”, the mask goes back on, no matter how futile the charm offensive is on his sister. “Where are you going?”

“To go congratulate him, of course, he’s been through the mill and he needs our love”, Vic makes a face and Robert rolls his eyes, imagining Aaron wanting to be anywhere but a massive gathering in honour of the fact his rapist father has been banged up. “Where are you going?”

“Back home”, Robert replies shortly, not wanting a lecture. Vic makes a face that says _that’s-not-good-enough_ , and he huffs, looking to the ground as he tries to hide from his sister’s frustration. “Aaron’s with Cain and Chas, they were having a moment and I didn’t want to interrupt them, alright? Remember, ‘just mates’”, Robert makes quotation marks with his fingers in the air.

“Did you even speak to him?”

“…no, but that’s not the poin – “ Robert doesn’t have a say in the matter; Vic has grabbed his lapel and takes him back inside.

“Aaron!” Vic calls from the entrance to the pub, letting go of Robert just out of sight. “Adam texted, I’m so happy for ya!”

“Thanks”, Aaron puts on his best smile and scratches his neck self-consciously. “Get Vic a drink on me, eh?”

“A drink on you’s a drink on me, pet”, Diane smiles and reaches for another pint glass.

Robert walks up slowly to the bar, up to the right hand side of his sister and next to the staff entrance to the bar.

“And one for this one as well, I guess”, Aaron fights his own smirk as he acknowledges Robert’s presence at the bar. Robert flashes a look of thanks, Aaron returning it as the pints clink on the bar top. The afternoon begins.

* * *

Six pints later. The sun is starting to hang a little lower in the sky, but Robert hasn’t noticed, sat in a booth in the corner, Aaron leaning hazily on the wall. The sheen that the combination of Aaron and the summer weather had concocted has become decidedly sepia-toned, the edges laced with hops and barley. Adam had to go back to the scrapyard, and Cain back to the garage. Chas is watching them from the bar, not with a look of scorn, but of curiosity, of peace. The posse has disbanded, and now it is just Aaron and Robert, Robert and Aaron. And twelve empty glasses.

“I…I bet you…twenty pounds that I could beat you on Rainbow Road, right now”, Robert feels the words tumble out into a percentage-fuelled heap, but it doesn’t matter, Aaron’s listening to him. This hasn’t happened recently; Aaron has been swept up in the court case, Robert in keeping his distance and settling his divorce. Robert had worried that he had neglected Aaron, that he had put too much distance between them; now the worries are washing away like the cool beer down his throat, like summer rain clearing to a warm evening.

“Easiest fucking twenty I’ve made in a while”, Aaron smirks and holds out his hand for Robert to shake. Robert looks down, smiles to himself, and shakes it. Five seconds…ten seconds…fifteen…still holding on…

“Are you gonna let go anytime soon?” Robert giggles slightly, giving him the hiccoughs as he gasps for beer-stained air.

“Nope”, Aaron’s smirk grows smugger, although Robert can’t think what he has to be smug about, no matter how cute it made him look. Aaron’s lazy expression quickly straightened, however, and he sat up slowly, still holding onto Robert’s hand. “I mean it…thanks…for everything you did for me”.

“Even though I almost fu-hic-cked the entire thing up?” Robert raises a slightly embarrassed eyebrow. “I’m still sor – “

“He got sent down, Robert”, Aaron rasps, and Robert is lulled by Aaron’s thumb smoothing over the tiny hairs on the back of his spindly hands. “None of that matters now…it’s…it’s you and me, eh?”

“You’re wank-hic-ered”, Robert notes, and Aaron giggles in spite of his seriousness.

“So are you!”

“I’m not the one getting all emotional and deep on ya!”

“Fine, fuck off then!”

“No, no, no, finish what you were saying!”

Aaron rolls his eyes dramatically and squeezes Robert’s hand again. “I just…just wanna say thanks for never givin’ up on me, not lettin’ me bottle it, even when we’ve not really…y’know, seen much of each other…”

“It’s fine”, Robert smiles. “That’s what friends are for”. _Friends._ It scratches through his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.

It was the slightest of eye movements, but Robert noticed Aaron’s pupil dart to the corner of his eye and back again in a millisecond. “Yeah”.

Robert can’t bear it, the slide into oblivion that Aaron’s magnetism creates. He feels sick, but he’s not sure whether it’s the six pints or the total surrender of control that Aaron’s vulnerability elicits; either way, he has to get up before he throws up.

He breaks the connection, powers down, grows dimmer. He thinks he sees the crackle of disappointment across Aaron’s gaze. _Don’t._ “Come on, then, let’s go and earn m-hic-e twenty quid then!” Robert puts his tongue into his cheek, arrogance scraping stubbornly against the wall of his own internal disappointment.

Aaron meets Robert’s challenging gaze with his own playfully smug one. Fuck, this is a bad idea.

* * *

 

**Tuesday**

_Note to self: never bet money to win Mario Kart against Aaron Livesy._

The drunkenly illegible handwriting on the Post-It attached to Robert’s face scrapes along his eyelids as they open slowly. The heavy front door closing shakes him from his alcoholic slumber, and now Robert feels his head being pelted with rocks. He squints; he’s definitely got too old for this sort of thing now…

“Aaron”, he moans into the room, keeping the Post-It over his eyes to protect himself from the assault of light from the slightly open curtains. “Aaron, how much did I lose last night?” Nothing. “Aaron?” He reluctantly peels the Post-It from over his eyes and the light comes streaming in through the thin cloth curtains. He readjusts his sight – no sign of Aaron. “Aaron, you there?” He frowns to himself as he checks the time on the watch that’s chafing his skin – 07:24. “Aaron?”

He sits back, no longer expecting any sort of an answer from him. Robert’s sure Aaron stayed over last night; in fact, he’s pretty sure he could ever forget watching him fall asleep in front of the telly last night, how he snuggled up to the cushion beside him, small breathless whimpers keeping the beat of his slumber. Robert tried to stay up as long as he could, just to watch him; but eventually the large wave of beer-infuse fatigue claimed him for its own. Robert wishes Aaron had stayed, to give himself something else to look at in the morning, some hope, some future. In fact, he was somewhat nonplussed as to why he had to leave so early, what he had to rush for. It couldn’t be for anything Robert had said or did, surely…if anything, Robert definitely remembers Aaron cleaning him out last night…

A leathery glint in the corner of his eye sparkles his attention, a wallet, not his. Robert sits up quickly to get a hand to it, and immediately regrets it as the weight of his head gets slammed forward. Squinting his eyes in the dull ache, he pulls the wallet towards him to check whose it is. He sees the photo on the driving license and grins, warms up, illuminates. If Aaron won’t come to the mountain, the mountain will go to Aaron.

Doing his best to ignore the pain as he leaps up from his seat, he runs off to catch the next shower before Vic hogs it for the next hour and a half. He has an Aaron to catch.

* * *

 

The sun glistened off of the windshield and the mirrors in a lazy exuberance as the car launched out of the Woolpack car park and out towards the scrapyard. He knows he shouldn’t be driving, if only for the banging headache that he has, but a policeman patrolling this fuck-all village at arse o’clock really ought to get a life. He chews his gum a little more rigorously around his mouth, expunging the stale stench of beer from his mouth the best he can.

Robert had initially stopped off at the pub to see if he had come home, managing to catch Chas writing on the sandwich board outside to update Marlon’s meal of the day. Chas had been the most welcoming she had ever been towards him by acknowledging him with a grunt instead of an insult, but she hadn’t seen or heard Aaron come in that morning. So here he is, racing to see his boy, his lad. A tempest of nervous excitement brewed awkwardly but hopefully in his stomach, knowing the only way is up from here. Robert lets himself get carried away slightly, thinking of the future, the near future, today. It is today, no more waiting. Sleeping on the sofa, fucking at four pm, a naughty fag on a special summer’s evening. God it’s been so long since Robert’s done any of that…he loves how Aaron sometimes encourages his vices, instead of earning Chrissie’s scorn every time he wasn’t having some quinoa kale fresh-air pie shite. Aaron eats man’s food, smokes man’s cigs, drinks…dog piss. _Maybe not everything_ , Robert smiles to himself.

He pulls up outside the scrapyard office with a satisfying crunch of the gravel and steps out, leaving his sunglasses in the glovebox and picking up Aaron’s wallet from the dashboard. It was a very Aaron sort of a wallet; absolute minimum of slots and pockets, nowhere for change. Just four cards (Robert finds it somewhat creepy that he finds Aaron’s photo on his seven-year-old driving license strangely alluring), the fifty quid Aaron had scammed off him last night, and two pictures – Jackson, and him and his mum. _Cute._

He takes the steps into the cabin two at a time, light as air, full of the future, of weightlessness. He opens the door.

Aaron jumps at his entrance, almost launching himself into the filing cabinets he’s stood beside, such is his shock. His eyes are wide like a rabbit’s, and Robert feels distinctly as though dropping in on him is the last thing Aaron wants right now. He pushes it away, he’s being stupid. Aaron wants him again – of that, he was certain.

“You let your wallet at mine when you left”, Robert smiles and throws the wallet softly onto the desk. “Thought I’d be the Good Samaritan and return it”.

“Oh”, Aaron mumbles in monotone. “Ta”.

“Where did you get to this morning?” Robert offers softly and hopefully across the great expanse of the tiny cabin. “You fell asleep before I did last night, and ya mum said you hadn’t come home yet”.

“Y’know, I had to get off to work early this morning”, Aaron stays by the filing cabinets, not turning around. “I do have a business to run”.

“I’m sure the investor wouldn’t have begrudged you a lie in”, Robert smirks, thinking a little too much about what lie ins might look like not long from now. “We’ve both missed out on a cooked breakfast, could do with it with this banging hangover”.

“Yeah, well I wanted to get back to work”.

Robert rubs his chin, trying to work out why Aaron has suddenly become all cold and reserved again after they had had such a good night last night. Had he overstepped the line? God, Robert didn’t try drunkenly kissing him, did he? _Fuck sake, Sudgen._ He bites his lip, trying one more time to get Aaron to turn around. “You don’t fancy a pub lunch in a bit, do you? Could do with a bit more grease to soak up those beers last night”.

“I’ve got lots to do”. 

Robert huffs, trying his might not to let Aaron’s coldness affect him. He walks up to Aaron slowly, not wanting to spook him as he approaches him at the filing cabinets. “Hey…we’re alright you and me, right?”

Aaron shuts the open drawer with a slam and walks over to the other end of the cabin again, pulling Robert’s intestines along with him so that Robert felt a jolting knot of hurt twang in his stomach. Still no eye contact. “Yeah”.

“Then where’s all this come from, eh?” Robert tries to keep his tone understanding, but he squints in frustration when he knows how combative it sounds.

Aaron looks up and the eye contact is made, smacking Robert in the face like a cricket bat. “You what?”

“I thought we were doing alright, last night was a laugh?”

“Special occasion”.

Robert makes a move towards the other end of the room but Aaron almost flinches. He sighs. “I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong this time…”

“Oh yeah, let’s make it all about you again, eh”. Aaron turns to look out of the window, his stature rigid and hostile.

 _Well done, push him away again._ “I wasn’t…it’s not”, Robert splutters, caught out by his hesitation.  “I just thought we were on the same page again…”

Aaron scoffs, and Robert’s head starts tumbling like a dryer, losing focus. “You really think you can get away with everything you’ve done…everything you said to me…”

“Aaron…Aaron, you know I never meant an-“

“It’s too late to go back on it now, mate, you’ve said it, you came out wi’ it!”

“But…but…” Robert can just about make out how pale he’s going in the reflection in the office window. “You know why I said it, you know how caught up in myself I was…Aaron, that was ages ago…everything was different…”

“So now you love me because I got bummed as a kid?”

Robert looks straight into those deep eyes across from him and Aaron freezes. “Don’t say that”.

“It’s true, in’t it?”

“Couldn’t be further from the truth”, Robert rumbles slowly, and perches himself on the desk to regain his balance. “I intentionally hurt you to protect myself and I’m quickly realising that I’m not gonna get forgiveness over that, especially from myself…but my feelings never changed, ever”, Robert breathes in slowly, and he’s shocked by how ragged and raspy it’s become. “I’ll never stop trying to prove myself to you, Aaron, not now, not ever. Supporting you through this was just the beginning, I’m nowhere near done yet”.

“So this was all just a vanity project to try and pay off your guilt?” Aaron sneers, his lip curled, eyes steely.

Robert huffs, seeing the impossible task ahead of him. “No, it was to make the man I love’s life worth living again”. Robert almost smirks when he sees Aaron’s glare soften momentarily and his Adam’s apple wobble slightly, but thinks better of it. “Why did you buy me a drink yesterday if you had all of this built up inside ya?”

Aaron replies immediately, “You said I was nothing special…you said I was boring, a failure at everything, a basket case…”

 _He remembers everything_ , Robert’s heart lurched in his chest. Robert remembers everything too, lets the words swirl sickeningly around his head. “Aaron, I…”

“…only girls cut themselves, that’s what you said, yeah?

“Aaron –“

“Yeah?”

Robert’s neck loses the will to support his head and his head drops to the floor in deep shame, memories of those conflicting feelings that coursed through his veins returning with a sly fizzle of energy. “Yeah, but –“

“You called me a murderer for helping Jackson die…the one person I thought I could trust not to judge me…to understand…to help me…you said we weren’t that different in the end…” Robert can feel Aaron’s intense gaze bore into his neck, all the built up angst and anguish and hate carving their own emotional scars deep inside Robert. They’ll never come out. “Well we are different, Robert, so different. You’re a coward, I’m not. You’re selfish, I’m not. You deserve to feel ashamed of yourself for the rest of your life. I don’t”. Robert can hear Aaron getting wobbly in his voice, and a sniffle rings out like an echo. “I don’t deserve that anymore, Robert”.

Robert, floored, keeps focussed on the linoleum flooring, feeling about two feet tall. It’s nothing he hasn’t told himself, of course, a thousand times, every day. But to hear it from him confirms it, makes it tangible, makes it permanent. He can only begin to understand what Aaron felt that afternoon in the scrapyard, the plea hearing in court. The intense abyss that is opening up inside Robert represents the last dreg of hope he had left disappearing, the utter loneliness that Robert now has to suffer in his world of one. He can be himself there, but he’s condemned to his own personal misery. Aaron was right – he didn’t deserve to be a part of that. Simple as.

“Tell me one thing before I go, Aaron”, he looks up finally, the weight of his own self-indignation weighing crushingly upon his neck. “Please?”

Aaron grunts, pairs of eyes just missing each other.

“Why did you let me in? Why did you buy me a drink yesterday afternoon, stay over mine last night?”

“Because I was too weak to push you away, to act on my better judgement…” Aaron coughs, and Robert knows that’s Aaron’s way of pushing away tears on the sly. “I had forgotten what you did to me…what being close to you did to me… You’re always gonna have that power, that way of weaselling your way into my life, or you’re always gonna try to”. Aaron makes his eyes into slits, and Robert feels like he’s under a spotlight, uneasy. “But I’m back in control now. And you don’t have to be here”.

“No, I don’t”, Robert chokes out eventually, and he makes his way slowly and agonisingly to the door. “I’ll transfer my share of the business to you and Adam equally, for nothing…I’ll get the documents drawn up today. I’ll just need your signatures and then the business is yours”.

Aaron just dips his head and turns to face the window.

“Bye then”.  Robert almost flings the door open in his haste to leave. He steps outside, the world shakes around him in its calmness. It ends. He has ended.

* * *

**Wednesday**

Another sunny day. Robert wakes up cold.

He pulls the duvet over his head as he remembers his own existence. He can’t feel it physically, his skin as rough as an old rug. But it’s that exact feeling of nothing that envelopes him, reminds him of this post-Aaron world.

Eyes over the duvet, a snap to the clock – 11:09. He sniffs, disgusted more with his apathy at the time than with the time itself. Who cares? Aaron definitely doesn’t. He hopes Vic’s not in though – he doesn’t fancy either the third degree or the patronising smile routine.

11:19

11:39

12:25

He wakes up and dozes off. He’s not feeling anymore, he’s compartmentalising. But he has no other channel to switch to. No job. No business. No Aaron, no wife. Just him. Alone.

* * *

 

12:42

He dozes off again.

* * *

BANG BANG BANG

“Go away”, Robert moans, his eyes shut, not daring to look at the clock.

“My house, Robert!”

“I’m paying my way, what else do you want from me?” Hearing his own voice makes him sick enough, without showing his face to anyone else.

“A bit of decency? It’s five o’clock and your curtains are still shut!”

“I don’t want to see people today, Vic”.

“Robert, I’m coming in five seconds, you better be presentable”.

“Vic!”

“5”

“Don’t you dare!”

“4…3…”

“I’m totally naked!”

“2…1…”

“Vic!!”

The door swings open and Robert pulls the duvet over his head again.

“Come on, then, what’s this in aid of?” Robert can hear Vic’s somewhat exasperated reproach, but nothing comes out of mouth, even though he tries. “Robert, you can’t hide from your problems forever, you have to face them head on –“

“Because I haven’t tried that already?” Robert really wants Vic to say something back, to stop him from admitting that yesterday happened at all, but nothing comes back. He sighs. “Just leave it, Vic, it’s over”.

“Only because you say it is”, her voice gets a little softer. “I haven’t seen ya since Monday evening, and we live in the same house. What’s happened, eh?” Robert chooses not to reply this time, waiting for Vic to fill in the gaps herself. “Has something big happened with Aaron? Adam says you’ve given them your share of the business for nothing…”

“They don’t need my input anymore, they’re more than capable of running it alone – plus they get more profit now”.

“But for nothing?”

“It’s not important, Vic”.

Vic pauses and Robert thinks she’s finally going to leave him to wallow in peace. Just then, he gets a shove to the legs and is pushed next to the wall and the other side of the bed. The bed sags, and Robert can feel Vic sit next to his feet. Robert can only hope.

“You said Aaron stayed over Monday night, right?”

Another pause. “Yeah, but no funny business, just Mario Kart and me losing £50”.

“So what’s happened since?” He’s glad she didn’t ask how he managed to get cleaned out just before Aaron dismissed him for good ( _cheeky fucker_ , the thought makes him burn with shame as soon as he thinks it).

“He left really early the next morning without saying goodbye…I thought something was up…I didn’t think it was gonna be all this…”

“All what, Robert?”

“I’m so stupid for being so naïve, like he was gonna forget all the things I said to him, all those horrible things…”

“Robert! Get out from under the duvet and talk to me…” Robert does as he’s told, if only for a more peaceful life. Vic’s face is a lot more sympathetic than he imagined it would be, for whatever reason. “What did you say to him?” She places a soothing squeeze onto Robert’s torso from above the covers, and looks into his eyes. Robert wonders what she sees in them.

“It was the day I got shot…” Robert sees Vic’s eyes shut momentarily in a car crash of memory before fluttering back open to focus on him. “I’d gone down to the scrapyard…and I was just trying to protect myself from my own feelings…but I just laid into him big style…I said…I said some horrible things, like I knew what I was doing…and I knew I’d affected him, I knew he wished I’d died…but…I didn’t think he’d remember every single word…it was like I’d carved it into him with a chisel or a knife or something…”

“But he was being proper chummy with you before…?” Vic responds, scrunching up her nose in confusion.

“I know, he snapped pretty quickly”, Rob sighs, sitting up a little. The landing is draughty, and the air brushes Robert’s bare torso with a cold edge, making him recoil a little. “He saw how close he was to losing control of the situation and he wants it back. I can’t blame him, Vic, I really can’t”.

“Surely there’s a way back, he knows how much you helped him since the thing with his dad coming back happened?”

“There are some things you can’t forgive, Vic”, his vision draws dark as he immerses himself in his own innate badness. “That was one of many I’ve done to him”.

“There will be a way, Ro – “

“No, Vic”, Robert is firm; he can’t afford to let himself get caught up in fantasy anymore. “There isn’t, he made it perfectly clear. This is more than before; he never wants to see me again. I could see the conflict in his eyes, but he knows that he needs this break, this new start…and I have to give it to him”.

Vic squeezes his shoulders, her face conflicted. “Something will happen, Robert. Even without him, things will get better”.

“Not quite the same, though”.

Vic made a noise to fill the silence that came after. Robert really wants her to leave him alone now, but he senses she’s not done with him just yet. True to prediction, she stands up energetically and looks him the eye again. He wishes she wouldn’t. “Come on, if you’re giving up on the love of your life, you need to find something else to do instead. You’re always coming up with new projects, new businesses – get yourself some contacts, get yourself back out there. You need to focus your mind on something, expand your horizons. You never know, you might win him back when he sees the effort you’re putting into your life”.

Robert smiles at the naivety of his little sister, the dreamer, the optimist. He admires it in her, is ridiculously jealous of her uncanny ability to be able to look at the glass as completely full. But the world doesn’t revolve around innocence, rather grotesque truth. He exhales, and scrapes his top teeth against his bottom lip, “Pep talk done yet?”

Vic huffs impatiently. “Well, you can lay in bed if you want, but don’t expect my sympathy for you giving up on yaself, not to mention Aaron!”

“Don’t bother, Vic”, he replies in resignation. “I’m beyond help, well beyond”.

“Well, you’re not beyond helping me with dinner”, Vic sweeps herself back up into her energy and heads towards the bedroom. “Help me in ten minutes with the veg or you’re feeding yourself”.

She leaves him in peace.

He doesn’t get up in ten minutes.

* * *

 

_Expand your horizons._

_Expand your horizons._

_Expand your horizons._

Dozens of tabs flood Robert’s web browser – British Airways, Delta, Air France. Heathrow, Manchester, JFK. He’s doing what he does very best of all – running away.

He feels the runway winds rush between his arms in freedom as he scrolls through flights for the rest of the week. The last minute prices make him feel a little faint, but it’s worth it to give him and Aaron the space they need to sort their heads out. Robert’s not entirely sure he could ever outgrow the villainous, Machiavellian mould he’s grown so comfortable with, but he owes to Aaron to see life without him, to grow without fear of how Robert is next going to break his heart. Robert’s own broken heart doesn’t matter – for once, he’s doing the selfless thing, the thing people wouldn’t expect from him. However, he knows there’s that selfish twinge that convinces him he's doing it so that people redeem him and love him again – he’ll never change..

He's decided to go back to New York, that city that energised his endeavour and ignited his ambition so much when he had first visited. It was about a year of working in Lawrence’s company, and a steady climb of the inner ranks had allowed him to accrue an impressive portfolio of responsibility before too long. A couple of whiskeys and a pat on the back later, senior management had sent him out to New York on business, to liaise with their American partners in their Manhattan office. He had made good mates with his American counterpart in the company over the month he had spent there, a decent lad called Dan (whom he may or may not have fucked six or seven times in his Central Park hotel room…). And for Robert, when someone says to come visit them anytime, he takes it deathly seriously – much to the awkwardness of some.

Luckily, Dan was delighted to hear from him after losing contact for a while, and has invited him to stay for a couple of months to show him a bit more of the state and to catch up on old times. He wonders for a little while whether he’d take an offer of meaningless rebound sex if it were given…but he surprises himself with the repulsion that he feels in the pit of his stomach. Back then, sex was sex, it was a basic human need, a requirement to connecting with this own animalistic desire and drive. Love never came into it; it kept his systems working, it shut a few people up. But now he’s had sex with Aaron…and sex is no longer sex. It’s expression, intimacy. The L word. Robert feels sick with what he’s missing.

He has to get out of here. His clothes itch, as does his skin. He feels dizzy from the claustrophobia of his own existence, of his surroundings. Why do people have to know him, already know him for the dick he is? He feels a rush of something vaguely resembling adrenaline, the thought of nobody knowing him, shaping opinions and perceptions from square one.

A desperate smile creases the corners of his mouth.

He books the flight.

Freedom.

* * *

 

**Thursday**

Passport.

Robert can’t find his fucking passport.

He’s sure Chrissie didn’t burn it or anything – he thinks he saw it a couple of weeks back when he was looking for some bank paperwork for the divorce, but it’s not in the important drawer, or the suitcase, or on the bed, or on the floor.

Where the fuck is it?

Neatly folded clothes fly across the room in frantic streams of garish colour. Neatly folded bedsheet crumple. Not under the duvet. Not under the shirts.

He drops to the floor, searches underneath the rickety frame of the single bed. Scrabbles around in the dark. Sounds familiar.

The drawers slide open, boxers, socks, scarves, gloves on the floor. The DVDs stream out of the cupboard with desperate hands and a crash, eyes squinting for that flash of leathery red.

“Where _is it_?!”

The light turns white around the corners of his vision like a dying sun, like the seconds before nuclear meltdown. _WHERE IS IT?_

“ _Robert!”_

The cold sweat runs down Robert’s forehead and his head clears; he’s stunned as he realises the mess he’s made, the frantic pulsation at the side of his neck. What was worth this?

“What on Earth are you doing?” Vic is leaning forward from the door, a rolling pin hanging limply in her hand.

“I…I…my passport”, Robert swallows, clasping onto the last working brain cells. “I can’t find it”.

Vic steps forward for a closer look, and heaves a sigh. “You mean that thing poking out ya trouser pocket?”

The last remaining colour and warmth drains from him onto the floor in embarrassment. “Oh”.

Robert doesn’t move, but he feels Vic slide up next to him to kneel down. “What’s all this about, what are you looking for your passport for?”

He pauses – what is he doing it for? His tired mind snaps sadly, and he remembers. “I need to get out of here, Vic”.

“Where to? Why? Who with? How long?”

“…I…I’ve got a friend in New York I’ve not seen for a while”, he mumbles, sensing Vic’s disappointment through the sharpness of the touch of her hand on his shoulder. “Thought it’d be nice to see some of the world again…it’s been a while”.

Vic doesn’t reply, she just puts down the rolling pin and starts folding up the shirts scattered across the floor.

“Vic?”

She folds up the lilac one, then the cream one.

“Vic?”

The brown one gets a rougher treatment, sleeves hanging out the sides.

“Vic?”

Vic reaches for the blue one, almost ripping it from the side as she pulls at the sleeves.

“Vic?”

“Why?!” She looks at him squarely, and only now can Robert see the pain that Vic’s been hiding. “Why do you have to run away at the first sign of trouble?”

“Vic, I can’t be around Aaron anymore”, Robert feels whiny, but he knows it can’t work. “I hurt him to point of no return, Vic…he can’t deal with it, and it’s not fair for me to constantly remind him of it...and I can’t deal with seeing him every day…not knowing what I did to him…”

“A long time ago, maybe!” Robert can’t bear to look in her eyes. The point stands here as well, it seems. “But you’ve moved on, you were getting on so well! You two on Monday night after the trial, I thought you’d already got back together behind our backs!”

“Yeah, well you weren’t the only one, were you”, Robert mumbles to himself.

“How…how long are you going for?”

“Dunno”, he shrugs, feeling fourteen. “But my visa’ll run out eventually, so who knows”.

Vic shimmies around to the other side of him to face him head on. Robert tries to look down, but he’s drawn to the scrutiny he can feel himself under – maybe he owes Vic that at least. “And there’s nothing I can do to change ya mind?”

Robert closes his eyes slowly. Even though he can’t help wondering whether he’s just cutting his nose off to spite his face, the thought of watching Aaron from the Gulf of Friendzone at the other end of the bar reminds him of his mistakes, his regrets, his desires, his needs. This is final, Aaron said so. No more trials to wait for, no more obstacles, no more wrong times. Robert’s giving up.

“No”.  

* * *

 

The sun has started irritating the fuck out of Robert again. The fucking cheek of it. How dare it be so optimistic all the damn time, why couldn’t it just go to bed? It was half past eight in the evening and the sun was laying lazily in the sky, dozing luxuriously across the rolling hills surrounding the village. Robert curls his lip in jealousy and swipes the curtain across its rail, then sneers to himself as he sees the rays seep like honey through the thin material. Fucking sun.

Robert is praying for rain, or even just clouds, or snow, or frost, or winds. Anything to make him feel validated, to make him feel pity, to feel shame. He hopes it’s raining in New York. He glances to his phone on the desk, swipes the screen and unlocks. He bites his lip as he scrolls through the apps, finding the weather app and nervously typing in his destination. 26 degrees, sunny. His face falls. Maybe he should have chosen the Arctic Circle.

He zips up his suitcase and throws a glance to the empty wardrobe across the box-room. The hangers hung haphazardly across the metal rail, limp in their despondency. They reminded Robert of what he had lost, the constant emptiness that his home bled into him just when things seemed as though they were going right for him. What did it take, eh? What did it take for him to prove himself to this dump of a village that he was a good person? He had supported Aaron, helped him to take down his prevented father, helped to repair his relationship with his mother, put Aaron back on his feet… It wasn’t like he was doing it to prove a point, he just wanted Aaron to be happy. But to feel those eyes bore into the back of his neck even after all this time, not to mention Vic’s scorn when he told her he was leaving again. How is it that it comes so naturally to him? He doesn’t remember learning to be a twat; he certainly doesn’t remember choosing to be one. But it’s an inextricable part of his being. Inescapable, undeniable. Inevitable. Something about home brings out the demon in him, but even when he’s not here, he hurts people for abandoning them.

So Robert decides what he always decides – slash and burn.

Surveying the emptiness of his room, he forces himself to think of the last task he has to fulfil. The phone illuminates once more – just a work email. He hesitates, his thumb hovering with masochistic temptation over the screen. Sigh. He opens his phone, ignores the email, and jumps into his photo albums, one face screaming out to him amongst the sea of others. Aaron flipping him the bird laid on the bed, Aaron flipping him the bird at Home Farm, Aaron flipping him the bird in the car. He loves it when Aaron fights back, gives as good as he gets – being submissive doesn’t suit him. He loves the thought of meeting his equal; they’re two swirling hurricanes inches away from mass destruction, but somehow the spark of lightning between them fuels the energy to keep them turning forever. Except Robert has burnt himself out. And Aaron’s turned away.

He opens the messenger app. A message comes darting out of his fingertips like a bullet, but the will to send is stuck in his throat. If he doesn’t send it, he doesn’t have to hurt himself.

He sucks it up and sends it.

* * *

 

The pub has a collective smile on its face as Robert crunches across the gravelly path to the back, the sheen from the natural light making the windows glitter with self-esteem and confidence. Robert doesn’t notice, he doesn’t want to, it’s not relevant to him. To be honest, he’s not really noticing anything, he’s put himself on autopilot – the only way to cope without a large percentage on the front of the bottle.

Walking up the stairs inside the living quarters, the rhythm of the steps comforts him a little, but he still has to hold onto the wall to keep him upright, to keep him moving forward. The coldness of the walls is soothing him; it's the first thing he's come across that makes his emotions feel real in a head so deft at compartmentalising and burying and hiding. Inanimation deals no judgement, just stability.

There’s no sound coming from the living room. Surely Aaron has a little more respect for him to stand him up. But he would understand if he has. He edges towards the open door…and stops. And a bit closer. And stops. What is he going to say? What is there to say? How do you say goodbye to the person you love the most? How do you cushion yourself from the knockout blow?

He walks in. Aaron’s in there.

“Hey”.

Aaron looks up from his open magazine, almost with a glazed glance of impatience. Robert swallows uncomfortably.

“I just thought I’d pop over to tell ya…I’m going away tomorrow”, Robert babbles, not sure if it made any sense to Aaron. It felt like a stream of plosives and fricatives to him.

Aaron adjusts his position in his seat, leaning forward but guarding his emotions like diamonds. “Where?” he asks simply.

“New York…I’ve got a friend over there I’ve not seen in years. I thought I’d take some time to travel, get out of this tiny place…” _…from under your feet. Ask me why._ Robert begs him to ask him.

Aaron just shrugs his shoulders slightly, and looks past Robert. “You comin’ back?”

Robert pauses, fighting the inner urge to say “No” to see how Aaron would react. “Eventually, I’ve not booked a return”. He looks down, peering through his eyelids with a hungry masochism. He doesn’t need to look up, he can feel Aaron’s indifference sneak under his skin like a worm, climbing through bloodstreams, snapping across nerve endings. He feels his bones shake and rattle inside him but his skin keeps them from spilling across the floor, keeps the mask on as its plastic welds itself to his skin. He cannot look up. It’s too much.

Robert keeps his eyes down. He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He gets no answer.

He looks up. Aaron’s looking at him squarely, cryptically. He’s got his default _don’t-give-a-fuck_ face on, but there’s a tingle in his eye or a twinge in the creases of his mouth – something Robert can’t place. Hope flickers unhelpfully in his throat.

“Fair enough”.

The world dissolves in a flash. The walls are being corroded by the absence of feeling, of sensation, of validation. As he watches Aaron turn his gaze robotically to _TOP TEN SOUPED UP BANGERS 2016!!_ on the table before him, all of Robert’s feelings fall helplessly off of the precipice into the dark abyss inside him. He’s shocked he’s surprised, but he deserves it. He deserves to have his hopes crushed when he knew what Aaron had said, had said repeatedly.

It was never meant to be.

He sighs, and swallows the bitter juice licking at the back of his tongue. “Okay…well, look after yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah”.

Robert turns and walks briskly towards the door, ripping himself from where he was standing; the stone that kept him standing, waiting, and hoping, has painfully crumbled into an invisible rubble of emotion inside Robert, making every heavy step a sigh, a _what-if­,_ a _maybe._ He tries his best to feel some sort of pity, but instead comes a hollowness. A lack of humanity, of being. Of drive, of ambition. The shell of lovesick businessman. Aaron and Chrissie were right: good for nothing at all.

* * *

 

**Friday**

BANG BANG BANG.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

What the fuck?

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

Robert blinks sloppily at the floating red bars on the bedside table. 03:45. Fu-

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

“I’ll get it then”, Robert grumbles to himself as he rolls groggily out of bed and slaps on his dressing gown. Why couldn’t Adam have gone to go and get the door? It’s not like he has to be out the door at half nine for a transatlantic flight where he’s going to get jetlag and shit. Selfish bastard. Then he remembers – it’s Adam, he could sleep through the apocalypse. “Alright, alright, alr-“

Thoughts stop. Blood freezes over as Robert’s eyes fix on the caller. Aaron shrugs a hello, not able to meet Robert’s stunned expression.

“Aa-Aaron…” Robert chokes out. “It’s quarter to four…”

“I know”.

“What do you want at quarter to fo-“

Bliss blinds him as the gap closes spectacularly between them. Aaron speaks every apology, every explanation, every word into the synchronisation of lips, of tongues, of mouths. It takes Robert a few seconds for it to sink in, to emerge from the cloudy haze of sleepiness. But he does, and he melts into himself, collapsing, brick by brick, bone by bone. Muscles turn to mush, skin to sludge. The release is agonising, but he starts to return Aaron’s advances across the thread of air between them. Aaron pushes his hood down and Robert can see his flattened hair in the half-light spilling through the open front door, and he falls in love again, and again, and again, every time a regeneration.

They pull apart reluctantly when the exhausted air supply between them fails them eventually, and Robert clutches his forehead to stop his head from swaying in delirium and confusion.

“But…but…you said – “

“Don’t go to New York”, Aaron’s staring intently into Robert’s eyes and Robert’s all his, eternally, totally. “You don’t need to, you’ve got nothing to run from anymore”.

“Aaron, you made it perfectly clear – “

“And now I’ve made it perfectly clearer that I was full of fucking shit”, Aaron wipes sweat from his forehead but doesn’t break the gaze. “Giving myself a chance again was totally down to you, everything was down to you – “

“No it wasn-“

“Me rejecting ya was me not learning me lesson, not letting meself be happy for once, like I didn’t deserve it”.

“You were totally right, I’m awful for ya, I’m only gonna keep hurting ya, like I always d-“

“But ya’r learning, you’re being there cos ya wanna be, ya can’t change the past”.

“But the past, I thought it was unforgiv- “

“Ya can only change the future, Rob”.

“But you’re never going to – “

Aaron grits his teeth, squints his eyes, and pushes Robert against the wall, although not maliciously. “I don’t need you protecting me from yourself anymore, Robert, I can deal with ya, I want ya, I…I love ya. Yeah, you were a total cunt once upon a time, but you grew a pair, you grew the fuck up. You put me first, you put yourself last. You did everything you could to look after me. That…that has to mean sommut, Rob. I can’t keep denying myself the shit I want anymore…I have to fight for it. So go back to what you do best – think about what you want for a change, eh?”

The gritted teeth slip, and Aaron’s back boring his gaze into Robert’s shaken psyche. Robert tentatively places his hands on Aaron’s back and they melt into each other again. It’s softer this time, there’s less urgency, fewer barriers to break apart. They’re irrevocably the other’s, regardless of papers and rings and ceremonies. They open at the touch, biometrically; they immediately recognise the other and it’s access all areas. They’re voice-activated, an open book after every moan, every breath, every I love you, every you’re beautiful. They’re not without their faults, their bugs, their fatal flaw. But if Robert is going to die by it in any case, to be brought down on an inside job, the fall from his own grace will be cushioned by the thought that Aaron will come leaping after him feet forward. For the first time in his life, his weakness feels natural, it feels human, like he can cope with his own imperfection. God, he loves Aaron’s.

“Love you”, he thinks out loud, and immediately feels foolish for saying it.

Aaron goes red and laughs in equal measure. “Love ya too, you massive shit”.

Robert rubs his eyes in frustrated tiredness, resenting how time is invading the most intimate of his life’s interactions. “Come to bed?”

“Yeah”, the corner of Aaron’s mouth twitches in a flash of childish giddiness, and Robert can recognise the own sense of light-headed joy at this potential new normal. Robert pats Aaron on the back as Aaron takes to the flight of stairs behind them, Robert goes to shut the door. He shuts it with a light thud, but he feels its echo rattle right through him. The affair is over. The pain and the torment that they put themselves through is over. The trial is over; the witch is dead.

He turns to the curtain, slightly ajar and letting a shaft of dawn light splay dramatically across the rug. He smiles to himself and pulls it to.

He doesn’t want the sun to come up just yet.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story, I've always wanted to do a longread oneshot, but I've not been very convinced by this one - I hope you like it more than I do! Please do let me know what you thought in the comments, and any kudos are naturally deeply appreciated! Hopefully I can update my half-written chapter of Mistake before I get ridiculously busy again, but I'll try my best! Thanks for reading!
> 
> PS - I now have a tumblr for anyone interested in adding me on there - ermmmmmmmmmmm.tumblr.com . Prompts would be very appreciated, although I can't promise I'll be able to do it quickly (and I'm not writing smut...). Thanks!! :)


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